At 4AM on July 18th, a few hundred intrepid folks switched on their headlamps and toed the starting line of the Vermont100, with pleasant temperatures and rain in the forecast. Twelve hours later, an intrepid crew of UVRC volunteers arrived at mile 94.5 of the course, ready to set up Polly’s aid station to ensure that those runners had the fuel they needed to cover the last 5.5 miles of their adventure.
Polly’s is short for Polly’s All-Nite Diner, which, of course, is not so much a diner in the traditional sense as it is a collection of pop-up tents along the side of a dirt road. Under those tents is where the magic happens. It was there that we met Harvey, our aid station captain/fearless leader, who gave us instructions. It was not his first rodeo at Polly’s, and he had valuable tips to share. After instructions, Jim, Scott, and Michael began hooking up string lights, griddles, and, because no diner is complete without one, a neon Polly’s sign to our electrical sources. Amy was elected to the all-important job of writing out the menu, which was more for the volunteers than anything, as most runners are not likely lucid enough at mile 94.5 to read a sign, no matter how beautiful Amy’s penmanship was. (And see for yourself, it was indeed beautiful.) Julie and Jean teamed up at the griddle, prepping quesadillas and grilled cheese. Junhie, Sean and I greeted our lead runners, who, unsurprisingly, did not need much at that point. Most had crew (family and friends who had been meeting them at aid stations all day) who took care of most of their needs, but we filled some bottles, gave them some water, electrolytes, and Coke, and they were on their way.
The first runners through were running the 100k distance, and had started at 9AM. However, not too far behind them, we got to see the first 100-miler come through. Sean and I talked to one of his friends who was waiting for him, and it just so happens that he is a Vermonter! Given that this race is a major national race and part of the Grand Slam of 100 milers, it attracts runners from all over the country and world. It had been many years since a Vermonter won the men’s race, so it was exciting to get to see it happen this year, and to have a front row seat to the action at Polly’s!
The aforementioned UVRC crew continued slinging quesadillas, heating broth, filling bottles, and providing words of encouragement as the sun set. As the night progresses and the front of the pack moves through, later runners tend to linger a little longer at aid stations, taking advantage of the snacks and energy of the volunteers. As someone who has been on both sides of this scene, I can say that as a volunteer, I have never felt more appreciated than when helping runners at the aid station of an ultra. You can hear the genuine appreciation as runners thank you, and if they are too tired to get the words out, you can see it in their eyes as you help keep them moving along the course. As a runner, I can vouch that the appreciation is genuine; it can sometimes bring tears to my eyes to know that a stranger took time out of their life to help me chase a crazy goal, and is willing to give me a sweaty, stinky hug and words of encouragement when I’ve hit a low point, or quietly point to a sign that says, “Suck it up, buttercup” when I need a little kick in the pants to keep going.
Shortly after the lead 100-miler came through, Sean and I bid adieu to the UVRC crew and headed to our next duty. Cara had asked us to assist in tearing down aid stations along the course as they closed, and we couldn’t say no to our kind, quietly badass, inspiring friend Cara. We spent the next hours driving rural dirt roads in a UHaul, loading up drop bags, empty water jugs, bins of food, etc, as aid stations closed. We were on the opposite end of the race from before, following the back of the pack as they pressed on to make it through aid stations before cut-offs. We met a man named Rich at the back of the pack, who shared that he last ran the Vermont100 prior to being diagnosed with breast cancer, and that he wouldn’t be upset if he didn’t make cut-offs, as he was thankful for every mile that he did get to spend on the course that day/night. Pretty incredible stuff.
We wrapped up our “weird-ass date night” as I came to call it, around 3AM, tired and fulfilled. I hope more UVRC members will consider coming out to help next year. Maybe you’re considering signing up for a 100 and are curious about what the scene is like. Maybe there’s no way in hell you’d ever consider running 100 miles, but you’re also curious about what the scene is like. Maybe you like spending time outside and helping others. Whatever your reasons, we’d welcome your participation. The world of long ultras is a wild, weird, and wonderful one, and you don’t have to run them to be a part of it.